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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436099">Fish Fry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/floydig/pseuds/floydig'>floydig</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Appearance vs. Reality, Head Auror Draco Malfoy, M/M, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Established Relationship, Unsettling Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:47:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/floydig/pseuds/floydig</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah young love. You two are still in your honeymoon phase, I can tell.” Robards smiles indulgently.</p><p>Draco laughs pleasantly. His voice is friendly, warm. “Five years, and we haven’t grown out of it yet.” He turns to me, eyes sharp. “Don’t you agree, darling?” </p><p>I respond that yes, of course. We’re happy. </p><p>I’m happy. </p><p>In which Harry cooks dinner, Draco is Head Auror, and Robards thinks everything is wonderful.<br/><br/><em>But appearances are often deceiving.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>My Bloody Valentine 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fish Fry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for My Bloody Valentine 2021. Big thank you to <a href="https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Adybou">Uphorie</a> for looking this over and helping me out! ❤️<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I decide to go home early on Friday. I love working as Flying Instructor at Hogwarts, but the job takes a toll. My thighs and calves burn, my bones ache, and my upper back twinges. I wonder if I can convince Draco to share a pizza and curl up on the couch with me tonight. </p><p>We normally go out on Friday evenings. Draco loves visiting new trendy restaurants, and I love Draco. </p><p>I’ll admit that sometimes Draco’s choices are a bit bizarre. I remember when we went to that exclusive boutique a couple weeks back, Niffler Nectar I think it’s called. They specialize in making a variety of niffler milk cheeses.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Oh, this is simply <em>divine,</em>” Draco had groaned. “You <em> must </em>try this, darling.”</p><p>I felt my stomach lurch. I hastily declined. </p><p>The thing is—nifflers can’t produce milk naturally. You have to forcibly, painfully draw it out of them. Hagrid has a tendency to spout creature facts when he’s had too much to drink. </p><p>When I quietly explained all this to Draco, he simply smirked and took another large bite. “More for me.” He gestured to a display table in the corner. “They also have niffler prosciutto, so I doubt the creatures suffered for long.” </p><p>I sighed, smiled. Said alright, that’s fine, but I still didn't want any. </p><p>He nodded, pleased. He wrapped his free arm around my waist and pulled me in close. I leaned into him. He was warm, strong, a welcome presence at my side. I needed that when we were surrounded by large groups of unfamiliar people. I was lucky he knew me so well. </p><p>Then a server offered us another niffler cheese and bread platter. Draco smiled as he brought a sample to my lips, and I ate it. </p><p>I started volunteering at a magical creature rescue the next day.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m <em> so glad </em>you’re home. You got my owl?” Draco rushes down the stairs, hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist. He looks at me expectantly. </p><p><em> Owl?  </em>I chuckle, and explain that I decided to take the rest of the day off. I had a hard day at work, and I was hoping we could just stay in tonight, maybe watch a movie on the couch together and—</p><p>Draco smiles widely. “Wonderful. Robards is coming over for dinner tonight, and I told him you’d make your <em> delicious </em>Salmon Wellington and roast potatoes.” </p><p>Fuck. I hate cooking Salmon Wellington. It’s tedious, time consuming, and creates a sink full of dishes. I’m dirty, sweaty, and greasy from oiling brooms and flying all over the Quidditch pitch. I wonder if I'll even have time to take a hot shower and sit down.</p><p>But Draco is Head Auror now, and I know how important reputation is to him. </p><p>I was happy for him when he got the promotion. It’s funny; everyone expected it to be me when I was still on the force, but I never liked that job much. </p><p>Draco had snickered. “Not everyone can stomach a life of violent crime, darling.” </p><p>He was right. I think it’s because I had experienced so much roughness already. I prefer a simple, calm life. I get to have that with Draco. </p><p>So I tell him that I’ll start preparing the fish as soon as I clean up. </p><p>He nods in approval. “Brilliant. I’m going to take a quick nap.” He chuckles. “A bit drowsy to be quite honest.” </p><p>My eyes burn with that heavy sleep feeling. I smile and tell him to get some rest. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>At dinner, Robards laughs heartily and sets his fork down onto the dining table. “Delicious as always, Harry. Draco, you’re a lucky, lucky man.” </p><p>I attempt a grateful smile that I imagine looks more like a grimace. I’m tired.</p><p>I look over at Draco—he smirks, hand resting high on my inner thigh. Clever fingers stroke, and heat rushes through me. I stifle a muffled gasp. </p><p>Draco drawls, “Yes, well Harry’s been cooking ever since he was a young boy. I can imagine he’s quite good at it by now.” </p><p>My heart goes cold and stutters. Why would he say that? He knows about— I told him. The faded scar tissue on my hand tingles.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hurry up, boy! Those fish aren’t going to fry themselves.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Here’s my Smelting stick, Dad.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wonderful, Dudley.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m standing on a step-stool, holding a floured trout over hot oil. I’m about to drop it in, when the hard, stiff stick whacks me between my shoulder blades. Pain blooms through me, and I jolt forward. The fish slips between my fingers, into the fryer. Then crack! another harsh hit at my upper back. I double over. My hand plunges into the scalding oil too. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s hand curls, tightens around me. I agree that yes, Draco is right; I’ve been ‘<em>cooking ever since I was a young boy.’  </em></p><p>Robards smiles indulgently. “Magnificent. It’s so important to teach children valuable life skills.” He chuckles, looks at me in amusement. “Your aunt and uncle did well with you, Harry.” </p><p>What do I say to that? I grip my wine glass tight, and I imagine it breaking under the strain. Red would seep through the cracks, onto my hand, down my wrist. I should say something, I should. I open my mouth and—</p><p>Draco’s sharp nails dig into my thigh. He chuckles. “Yes, Petunia and Vernon certainly did spectacularly. Harry’s meals are always excellent.” </p><p>I take a sip from my glass, wincing at the pungency of it all. I force myself to swallow it down. Then I nod and smile and say thank you, I appreciate that. </p><p>Fuck, I can’t stand red wine. But Draco loves red wine, and I love Draco. </p><p>Robards watches us endearingly and shakes his head. “Ah young love. You two are still in your honeymoon phase, I can tell.” </p><p>Under the table, Draco’s fingers continue in steady, firm motions over my trousers. I spread my legs further and lean back. I feel my cheeks and neck heat. </p><p>Draco laughs pleasantly. His voice is friendly, warm. “Five years later, and we haven’t grown out of it yet.” He turns to me, eyes sharp. “Don’t you agree, darling?” </p><p>I respond that yes, of course. We’re happy. </p><p>I’m happy. </p><p>His lean fingers stroke my cock through my slacks, insistent and relentless. </p><p>I groan quietly and arch forward. </p><p>“The ceremony was certainly beautiful,” Robards says, eyes twinkling. “I still see it mentioned in Wizard Weekly on occasion.” </p><p> </p><p>Our wedding was big. I wanted it to be small. </p><p>Draco was upset when I told him I didn't want to invite Petunia and Vernon. </p><p>“Family is everything, Harry,” he said, looking at me sadly. “I wish you would reconsider.”</p><p>I responded that I wouldn't be changing my mind. </p><p>“I understand.” He smiled kindly. </p><p>As we were saying our vows, I caught a glimpse of two familiar stony faces at the back of the pews.  I was angry, but Draco said they wanted to come.</p><p>I think they might have loved me a little.</p><p> </p><p>After Robards leaves, I lay beside Draco in bed. His breathing is deep, steady, and grounding.</p><p>"I love you, Draco," I whisper.</p><p>But he's already asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! 🖤</p></blockquote></div></div>
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